


And I'd Like To Know It's More Than Love At First Sight

by biiitchofCambridge



Series: Peggy, Angie, Steve, Bucky, Oh My! [6]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: #BBB, A Sunday Kind of Love by Etta James, Angie-centric, Author also sucks at updates, Author is Shit, Awkward Conversations, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Peggy, Cartinelli - Freeform, Christianity, Corny, Demisexual Steve Rogers, F/F, F/M, Genderqueer Angie, Happy pride month, I'm channeling my gayest soul, Italian!Angie, Lesbian Angie, M/M, She Still Ain't Sorry, Songfic, Stucky - Freeform, pansexual Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 08:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15093320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biiitchofCambridge/pseuds/biiitchofCambridge
Summary: Kissing Peggy was like going against your parents' wishes-- like that time Angie drank half a bottle of merlot with her friend Maria when her papá and mamma said no, and that she had to go to mass the next day. Except this time, she didn’t get a headache and she loved every minute of it.





	And I'd Like To Know It's More Than Love At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> im a piece of shit for not updating, but school is over so eat my dick and read my fics that'll be coming out a lot more

Angie’s flat was plain but pretty. Peggy’d forgotten what it’s like to live without a boy. 

 

“Nice place, Yank.” Peggy teased. Angie turned pink and smiled.  
“Thanks, Pegs. I try,” she threw her work hat onto her favourite armchair-- the one her nonna left her when she died. It had a U back and was leather-- a total backache, but it was nice, so she didn’t throw it.  
“So, about today--” Angie began, as she turned, but Peggy was already putting her mouth on Angie’s before she could say anything else.  
That’s when the world melted and Angie brought her hands up to cup Peggy’s cheeks. They were rouged up, and not from makeup. Peggy had this weird habit of turning achingly red whenever she kissed someone-- perhaps it was because Angie was kissing her, or because she was _that_ much of a blushing virgin. Angie had yet to find out.  
“Sorry,” Peggy whispered her sweet breath across Angie’s lips and Angie felt her lungs constrict.  
“Don’t be.” Angie husked and gave Peggy a sugary grin. “Would you like some tea, Brit?”  
Peggy laughed and rolled her eyes, and nodded _yes, yes I’d like some._

 

Angie had a small flat; the landing was basically a closet, her living room also served as a kitchen, a dining room and her bedroom. She kicked her dirty underwear underneath the thin cot in passing, and Peggy sat at Angie’s pathetic table, onto her rickety chair, and gave Angie her utmost attention. So, what did Angie do?   
Angie got so _goddamn_ nervous she sneezed, turned maroon, then switched on the radio to cover up her discomfort.  
  


_ “I want a Sunday kind of love; a love to last past Saturday night! And I’d like to know it’s more than love at first sight, and I want a Sunday kind of love. Oh yeah, yeah…” _ _   
_

“Angie?” Peggy asked.   
“Yes?” Angie answered, beginning to boil the water.  
“You sneeze like a kitten.” Peggy teased. Angie snorted.  
“Of course I do. Do you see how small I am?” She turned and motioned to herself. “I practically holler ‘Fragile: Handle With Care’.”  
Peggy laughed; her head tipped back, her baby pink lips opened, music spilled out and her distracting brown eyes were the prettiest colour Angie’d ever seen.  


 _“I want a, a love that’s on the square, can’t seem to find somebody-- someone to care, and I’m on a lonely road that leads to nowhere… I need a Sunday kind of love…”_ _  
_ _  
_ The water started to steam, and Angie started to dig around in the cupboards for the tea. She found some cookies and put them on a plate, got the teacups and teapot down-- another heirloom left by Nonna Donna-- opened a drawer, knocked the cookies to the floor, __and banged her head off the drawer.

“Angie, darling?” Peggy was picking the cookies up, and before Angie could turn red, Peggy was cradling her head, looking at her tender scalp. “Well, at least it's not bleeding.”   
Angie sighed. “Feels like it.” She pulled from Peggy’s hands and stood, neck turning a dusky pink.  
“Sorry about ruining the cookies.” Angie wrung her hands together, then the kettle screamed.  
“Hey, how about I do this?” Peggy intercepted her, giving Angie a worried smile.  
_Great, she thinks I’m a fool,_ she thought. “You probably can do better anyways, since you’re British.” Angie teased half-heartedly.  
Peggy gave Angie _that_ laugh, and pressed on Angie’s stomach with a hand, “Go sit, dear.”  
Angie sat, trying hard to not turn crimson _or_ stare at the soft expanse of Peggy’s hips in her shorts.

 

_ “I do my Sunday dreaming, oh yeah, and all my Sunday scheming, every minute, every hour, every day… Oh, I’m hoping to discover a certain kind of lover who will show me the way--” _

 

“Here we go!” Peggy said, setting everything down onto the table. Before Angie could go and get the milk or sugar, Peggy was on her way and doing _just_ that, asking politely.  
Angie told her, and Peggy did that, but not before getting a towel with ice. She forced it to Angie’s hands and busied herself around the kitchen.  
_Doesn’t she just look ravishing?_ Angie thought to herself. The odd, little part of her brain hummed with satisfaction as Peggy twisted around the kitchen, like a housewife. Like Angie’s housewife. Her sick heart squealed in its queer satisfaction, and Peggy sat everything down onto the table and gave Angie’s hand a gentle squeeze.  
She felt the tips of her ears pink.  
“So, about today…?” Angie began. Peggy poured the tea and began to chew her bubblegum pink lips. That was Angie’s second favourite colour-- the first being _that_ red.  


_ “And my arms need someone, someone to enfold...To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold… Love for all my life to have and to hold, oh and I want a Sunday kind of love, oh yeah, yeah, yeah…” _

 

“Steve knows you and I kissed back at the hall,” Peggy said. Angie felt panic well up into her stomach. Even if Steve eyed her then eye-fucked Bucky, she was still nervous. “And he said he doesn’t care if we see each other.” Her eyes were hopeful and scared.  
Angie’s stomach was flipping in knots, butterflies jabbing at her esophagus to be let out.  
“What about Bucky? What do I tell him?” Angie asked. Peggy suddenly began to laugh the laugh that made Angie very attracted to her, and Peggy snorted when she was finished.  
“Oh, my, do you not have eyes? He practically molests Steve with his _eyes_ , and that’s in _public_ ,” Peggy said. “so I doubt he will say anything.”  
“Does he not like me, then? Is he just using me?” Angie asked. She wanted to believe he wasn’t like other guys. She was desperately praying he wasn’t, because he was the first to respect her boundaries and wishes, he was the first to care.  
“I’m not saying that,” Peggy hushed. “Because he does really, _really_ like you. And he wants you to be happy. Whether that’s just with him or him _and_ I.” She kept picking at her nails.   
“This is so new,” Angie whispered. “I’m not sure what to make of it….” She chewed the inside of her right cheek.   
“I agree,” Peggy responded, eyelashes looking brown in the sunshine slipping through the window, “but if you don’t want to be seeing me either, that’s fine.” Peggy’s voice cracked at _me_.  
“Oh, God, no, I’d love to see where this goes--” Angie’s face began to take blush. “--but I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”

Peggy smiled kindly at Angie. “You are so kind, it makes my heart hurt,” she placed a hand over her heart, and the other reached to touch Angie’s hand. “but Steve and Bucky have been in love with each other since they were  _ kids. _ I just kinda showed up into that equation. And Steve does love me, but he can’t seem to find it in him to let go of Bucky.” Angie let her grab her hand, which felt absolutely terrifying, in such a riveting way. Her nonna would be doing flips in her grave.   


_ “I don’t want a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday, Friday or Saturday, oh nothing but Sunday, oh yeah…” _

 

“Why didn’t he tell me that?” Angie asked.  
“I offered to tell you for him. He didn’t want to freak you out.” Peggy picked up a spoon and twirled it around in her fingers. “He can be a bit passionate with love.”  
Angie crinkled her nose. “Ew,”  
“Oh, that’s not what I meant by-- wait, why _ew_?” Peggy asked.  
Angie’s entire neck was blotched pink. She picked up the sugar bowl and grabbed a spoon. She put her sugar in and stirred quickly.  
“Doesn’t matter. How do you figure this will work?” Peggy began to run her surprisingly rough thumb across Angie’s soft knuckles.  
Peggy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Come to the house for dinner.”   
Angie’s heart began to fumble in its beats. “Why?”  
“So I can cook for you.” She ran her fingers over Angie’s hand, but she kept eyeing Angie nervously like she’d suddenly just say _stop_.  
“Well, I’d hope so. But will the boys be there?” Angie teased. She got a nervous look on her face.  
“No. They’ll be off to work.” Peggy brought Angie’s hand to her mouth and kissed her delicate knuckles.  
“Will Steve mind if I’m there...alone, with you?” Angie whispered.  
“He better not, as I let him fuck around with Bucky whenever he likes.” Peggy sighed. “I love him, and I get why he loves Bucky, and I want him to not hide from me. So, in turn, I’m not going to hide from him any longer.” Peggy turned Angie’s hand over and drew perfect little circles.  
“And I want you to know that I’m not going to tell anyone.” She eyed the photographs from Azzano, with Angie as a chubby-cheeked babe and her loads of family around her as they grinned at her christening.

“Oh, Peggy--” Angie began, but Peggy leaned forward and kissed her again. And, yet again, Angie’s breath was stripped from her lungs.   


Kissing Peggy was like going against your parents’ wishes-- like that time Angie drank half a bottle of merlot with her friend Maria when her _papá_ and _mamma_ said no, and that she had to go to mass the next day. Except this time, she didn’t get a headache and she _loved every minute of it._  
“Well, that’s _one_ way of shutting me up.” Angie giggled. Peggy huffed out a laugh, and her breath smelled like tea. “But seriously, we should talk to the boys about this,” Angie said, _aheming_ because whenever Peggy kissed her, her throat closed.  
Peggy nodded thoughtfully. “So, wanna help me get this cleaned up and we can head over?” Peggy asked.  
“Right after this,” Angie said, grabbing Peggy by the jaw and pressing a kind, sweet kiss to her mouth.

 

_ “I want a Sunday, Sunday, I want a Sunday kind of love, oh yeah, Sunday, Sunday, Sunday kind of love…” _

 

**Author's Note:**

> much enjoy?? i actually loved writing this, but the dialogue was a PAIN. i like writing angsty internal monolougues and referencing sex. bcc im gross like that. anyways, comment, kudos, idgas. just lemme know what u thought!!!
> 
> twitter//@abbeyfangirl  
> tumblr//@donnajane54


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